For the Warmth of Another
by Edgar Night
Summary: Charles is asexually frustrated.


Charles lay staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to ignore the Need that curled in and around his chest like a demanding python. He turned over, pulling a feather pillow out from under his head and clutching it to him tightly. He could feel his own heartbeat resonate through the material and tried to convince his brain that it was the pulse of a living being. It didn't work—not that he had expected it to. Non-sentient things had never been much use to him when he was in this state.

For a moment, Charles considered walking down the hall and going to Raven for help. However, a glance at the clock was all he needed to know that his intrusion into her room would not be appreciated. Letting the pillow fall back onto the mattress, Charles turned over onto his back again and released a quiet sigh. This would pass, he told himself. It always did, sooner or later.

He only wished that it wouldn't interfere with his sleep.

Charles turned onto his side again. Hugged the pillow. Tossed it aside, turned over again. Rubbed his scalp, a frustrated groan crawling out of his throat. Turned again. Stared at the pillow as if he could change it into a person by sheer force of will. Closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Failed miserably.

When he could stand it no longer, Charles sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. Slipping into a dressing gown and a pair of slippers, he crept out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. Tea. Yes, that would do the trick. He set about to boiling a kettle of water, already feeling the pressure of the Need lessen slightly.

While he waited for the kettle to boil, Charles seated himself at the kitchen table, taking steady, measured breaths. He found himself swept up in nostalgia for the days of his childhood, when he could sneak into Raven's room and curl around her sleeping form without her being annoyed with him in the morning. Charles propped his elbows on the table and rested his forehead in one hand, frustrated; thinking about those days only made the pressure in his chest worsen.

Across the room, a radiator purred; Charles could hear the kettle rattling quietly with simmering water. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

Footsteps—quiet, slow, cat-like. Charles straightened and peered into the dark corridor leading to the kitchen, but saw no-one. Stifling a yawn, Charles pushed his chair back and stood. He dropped three teabags into the kettle and fetched a pair of cups. If someone else in the mansion was awake, he saw no reason not to offer them tea as well; he could hardly keep it all to himself, after all. While he waited for it to steep, he assembled a tea set.

Now to find the other sleepless one. Charles waited until he heard the footsteps again before he left the kitchen. Following the sound, he carried the tea set halfway across the mansion before he happened upon a lit room—the library. He struggled with the tray for a moment before successfully holding it in one hand for long enough to knock on the partly-opened door.

"Come in."

Somehow, Charles wasn't terribly surprised to hear Erik's voice from inside. He pushed the door fully open with his shoulder and crossed the threshold. Erik rested on one of the two couches, one leg folded so that his ankle sat atop the opposite knee. He cast a lazy glance at Charles, eying the tea set with a quirked eyebrow.

Erik picked a small book off of the table in front of him, opening it near the end. "Morning."

"Morning," Charles replied cheerily. He laid the tray on the table before seating himself a cushion's breadth away from Erik. "Why are you up so late?"

Erik didn't look up from his book. "I could ask you the same thing, you know."

"Couldn't sleep." Charles splayed himself out, propping one foot on the table. He gestured to the book. "Is it good?"

"Boring, actually," Erik replied. He grimaced at the pages for a fraction of a second before closing the book on his fingertip. "I hoped it would put me to sleep. You can see how well that went."

Charles chuckled. "Indeed." He took his foot off the table and leaned forward, picking up a cup. He filled it three-quarters of the way to the brim with tea and then with milk. He lifted the cup in a mock-toast before taking a drink. "Help yourself, my friend. There's plenty."

The faintest of smirks dancing on his mouth, Erik reached out and took the second cup. "Are you always this prepared for nighttime tea parties?"

"Hardly," Charles laughed. "I was already making it when I heard you walking about." Charles observed Erik out of the corner of his eye, taking note of how he took his tea—no milk, two sugars—for future reference. Erik stared into the cup for a moment before putting it to his lips. Charles grinned. "It's not poisoned, you know."

Erik snorted as he took his first sip. "You can never be too careful." Another sip—deeper and with eyes partly closed. He placed the cup back onto the tray and leaned back into the couch. "So," he said, crossing his arms, "what's kept you up?"

_A pressing need for the warmth of another human being_, Charles thought. "Nothing in particular," he replied aloud. "Just thoughts."

"Yours?" Erik said with a lopsided half-smile.

"Of course." Charles feigned affrontedness. "I don't make a habit of spying on people's dreams."

Erik gave no reply. Instead, he reached for his tea again and drank deeply. Charles shifted in his seat, tapping a steady rhythm on the back of the couch. He, too, said nothing, not wishing to press a conversation if it was not wanted. The Need coiled more tightly around him, and for a moment he wondered if he—no, that would be a ridiculous question to ask. How would he ask it? He shifted again, taking steady, measured breaths in an attempt to lessen the pressure on his sternum.

The teapot was empty by the time either man spoke again.

"You're uncomfortable."

Charles blinked. "Sorry?"

Erik made a vague gesture towards Charles as a whole. "You haven't stopped moving since you sat down." He raised his eyebrows. "If you want to leave..."

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. Besides, nobody else is awake. I could use the company."

"Suit yourself." Erik opened his book again. Charles couldn't help but notice that his eyes didn't move down the page. After a moment, Erik cast a sidelong glance towards Charles. "What?"

"Mm? Nothing."

"Something's bothering you, I can tell." Erik placed his book back on the table and turned to face Charles fully.

Charles shifted, lazily draping one arm over the back of the couch. "Oh?"

"You're being quiet. It's unsettling." Erik sighed. "What's wrong? Or can't you tell me?"

"It's nothing like that," Charles said.

Erik quirked an eyebrow. "Then tell me."

Charles rubbed his forehead. He frowned, staring at his knees, and sighed. "It's a bit difficult to explain, if I am to be completely honest," he confessed. "I've been doing some reminiscing." Erik didn't comment. "Childhood things, you know."

"And that kept you awake this late?" Erik's tone was dubious.

"...no, not really." Charles cleared his throat. He rested one hand over his mouth and rubbed his upper lip with his index finger, thinking. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you ever get this..." Charles couldn't quite find the words. He stammered aimlessly for a moment before he finally got a grasp on his vocabulary. "...this _urge_—"

"Are you propositioning me, Charles?" Erik cracked a grin.

Charles's mouth opened and closed wordlessly for several seconds. "What? No! That's most certainly not what—no. Goodness, no. It's completely different from—goodness, no." He took a deep breath. "What I mean is..." The pressure in his chest worsened exponentially. An exasperated sigh crept out of his throat, raspy and slow. "Right. This is... stay still, won't you, Erik?"

Before Erik had time to get out more of a protest than "what," Charles scooted over and draped himself over his friend, burying his nose somewhere near Erik's clavicle. It was ungainly and uncomfortable and Charles had no idea where to put his legs, but damn it, he could feel a real, living heartbeat against his own and that was good enough. The tension faded from every fibre of his being; it felt like melting.

Erik cleared his throat. "Well, that was interesting." He patted Charles on the shoulder. "Are you going to get off of me now?"

Charles sighed. "Do I have to? This has been bothering me all night..."

"_This_ is what was keeping you awake?" Charles nodded. "You just wanted a _hug_. And that kept you up for half the night." Another nod. "...right."

"I couldn't ask Raven," Charles said. "Well, I suppose I could, but I don't think she would consent."

"This is consent?"

"Well, if you're uncomfortable—"

"Physically, yes," Erik interrupted. "Your nose is digging into my shoulder."

Charles snickered, but he shifted, turning his head so that he faced away from the back of the couch and shuffling slightly downward so that his ear rested near Erik's sternum. He closed his eyes, consciously altering his breathing pattern to match Erik's. "Better?"

"Thank you."

Erik rested a hand between Charles's shoulders. Charles pulled his leg up so it didn't dangle to the floor, draping it over the arm of the sofa. Tucked one arm under Erik's back, letting the other fall so his hand rested on the edge of the cushion. Already, could feel his heart rate slowing.

"Thank you, my friend," he murmured.

"If you fall asleep on me..." Erik warned.

Charles was already fading.

-(...)-

He awoke rather suddenly, flailing and falling off of the couch with a loud _**thunk**_. Struggling to recover the air knocked from his lungs, Charles glanced around. Erik had stood up, and was looking down at him with an amused expression.

Charles huffed. "What in heaven's name was that for?"

"I warned you about falling asleep on me, Charles." Erik gestured to the windows. "Anyway, it's nearly dawn. The others will be waking up soon."

Wrinkling his nose, Charles attempted to stand. He immediately fell back onto his backside, finding that one of his legs had fallen asleep sometime during the night. Erik's grin was insufferable. Charles sighed and pulled himself onto the sofa, rubbing his now-tingling leg with vigor in an attempt to restore sensation to it.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours." Erik gestured to Charles's feet. "Your slippers fell off while you were out, by the way."

Charles glanced down and noticed that his feet were indeed bare. "So they did. Where are they?"

"Wherever they fell," Erik replied. "I haven't been up long enough to move them."

Charles flexed his toes and tapped his foot against the floor. He leaned forward, trying to see around the end of the couch. Sure enough, both of his slippers rested just beneath the arm. He wondered how he had managed that.

As he grabbed for the wayward footwear, Charles smirked. "Two hours is a long time for someone as reluctant as you were."

"I warmed up to the idea after the first fifteen minutes of cuddly dead weight on my chest."

Charles smiled. "It's not so bad, now is it?"

"...Not at all." Erik turned his attention back to the window, gazing into the darkness outside. "Is your _urge_ satisfied, Charles?"

Truth be told, the Need had all but left. The only thing Charles felt in his chest was his own heart beating steadily on. "For the most part," he replied, slipping his foot into the first slipper. "Why do you ask?"

Erik blinked twice, slowly, before turning back to Charles. "There's still an hour or so left before the sun comes up."


End file.
